


Dressing down

by peaceloveandjocularity, stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: An extension of the episode “Bottoms up.”
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Dressing down

Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger had always struggled to resist a scheme, to avoid going too far even when the boundary lines were quite clearly labeled for all to see. Tonight, however, he was berating himself for daring too much. 

But it had been such a gorgeous set up- once in a lifetime, really… And he tried to tell himself that maybe, just maybe, his opportunistic touches had gone unnoticed, overshadowed by Pierce’s practical joking. That was possible, right? 

But not likely. 

He’d heard Winchester gasp - a pretty sound that could make him hard just by  _ thinking  _ about it - so it stood to reason that his utter inability to forgo such an intimate trespass had triggered the sound. Charles had recovered quickly, though, had not allowed anyone else to pick up on what had happened between them… so maybe he  _ wouldn’t _ break his fingers? 

Klinger had a lifetime of practice in doing things just to see if he could get away with them. Swiping a comic book from the drugstore as a wayward youth was one thing, however; walking his eager fingers up the inside of a superior officer’s thigh to “shake hands” with the most intimate part of him… that was something else. He squeezed his eyes shut, hearing words his mother had spoken to him many times, fond and chiding:  _ Just because the chance  _ **_appears_ ** _ , it doesn’t mean you have to take it majnun!  _

But Klinger had been 100% certain that such a chance would never fall into his hands ever again and the Major was so beautiful. Those eyes - first flashing in annoyance at Hawkeye, then sparkling with amusement - who  _ wouldn’t  _ want to stare at eyes like that in the (admittedly perhaps misguided) hope that they’d kindle and darken at a touch,  _ his  _ touch? Unfortunately, Klinger couldn’t say, now, for sure what Winchester’s eyes had actually  _ done _ ; he’d been terrified, for one thing. He’d also been wielding a serrated knife, working to free Winchester from the pants Hawkeye had caused to be glued to a chair, so he’d been trying to be careful. On top of all of that, he’d had the problematic privilege of undoing Winchester’s belt and damned if his hands hadn’t gotten shaky with excitement. 

Part of him felt he ought to confess and ask for absolution… but what if Mulcahy fainted? This was pretty racy stuff. Worse, what if he got  _ mad _ ? Klinger had seen the man box and his nose wasn’t exactly a tiny target. And though he was sorry for his lamentable lack of willpower, Klinger didn’t think his feelings were a sin; if God hadn’t wanted him to fall for the Major, he should have had him transferred somewhere else. 

These thoughts sped him through guard duty, at least, and soon he was back in his tent, on his back, dreamily remembering working the clasp on that belt, the metal warmed by its nearness to Winchester’s skin. And as he dreamed, he thought of another chance. It was far more daring than a mere stolen caress… but it might yield a bigger pay off, too.

This second chance came on a slow night. Hunnicutt was on duty and Hawkeye was on a date. A late shipment of miscellaneous items had come rumbling out of the hills. Klinger organized it - medicine to supply, paperwork to the Colonel - and found a small stack of mail bound up in twine and intended for Major Charles Emerson Winchester III. 

_ Perfect _ . 

Duties completed for the night, Klinger took the mail to the Swamp. Thankfully, Charles was alone, so he had the stage to himself. “Major so far the only moment I have not thought I was going to die or throw up was when I was between your legs. Thought you should know, here’s your mail.” 

Charles was reading the paper and murmured something that might have been, “Very good.” Then he straightened, “Wait - what?” 

Klinger had nearly made it out of the door, but knowing that Winchester had heard him made him clumsy; he brushed against one of Captain Pierce’s precarious piles of stuff, which promptly slid to the floor. Klinger knelt to scoop it up and found himself right back between the long, splayed legs of a very dignified Major Winchester. 

He looked up, eyes wide. 

“Well? You knew what to do well enough last time.” 

That cool, haughty tone made his spine jackknife. “Last time I was cutting your pants off, Major.” 

“Nice cover. That was far from  _ all _ you were doing.” 

Klinger scooped up the fallen papers, mumbling, “That  _ was _ all I was doing. All I was  _ supposed _ to be doing.” 

“You never do just what you’re supposed to be doing. I don’t think you’re capable.” 

Klinger looked offended (also adorable- but Charles refused to acknowledge this). “Are you saying this is some kind of con? That I con people?” 

“I would say ‘scheme,’ but, essentially yes.”

He protested. “Major, I have ‘schemed’ my damn heart out with dresses but not  _ pants _ . Hell, even when I wear fatigues I still have pretty hose on!” 

Winchester folded his paper and set it aside. “So you're telling me this isn't a scheme, Max?”

The use of his given name made him straighten in hope. “If I woulda known a scheme would put me between your legs I woulda done it a long time ago. What Captain Pierce did was a scheme. What I did was… look, I  _ had  _ to. You were just so pretty looking all helpless like that. It was wrong of me and I've beaten myself up for it plenty, trust me.”

“Pretty?” Now  _ his  _ eyes were wide. 

“With your cheeks all flushed like that? Oh, yeah. I wasn’t the only one who thought so, either, not by a long shot. And that noise you made has become a feature presentation in my memories.” 

“Winchesters do not, ah, well, perhaps…”

Klinger ran his hands up his legs, left his fingers resting on his thighs. “Don’t what?” 

“Erm, uh, that is… What were we discussing?” 

“How very pretty you are.”

“You mean that?” 

“With everything I am,” Klinger promised. 

“That’s a lot.”

“You can handle it.” He played with his zipper. “Should I unzip this pair the right way or do we destroy more army property?” 

“I don't have too many more pants, Max. I'm a tall man. The army doesn't have much my size.”

Klinger obligingly lowered the zipper. “I can make you more,” he offered. 

“Darling, I would never survive you taking my measurements.” 

Despite this, he held up fairly well what came after, delighting so much in his new treasure that he even considered thanking his tentmates for the prank that had led him to this place. Almost.

End! 

  
  



End file.
